


Offering

by FHC_Lynn



Series: Broken Windows [33]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, robot gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14103906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FHC_Lynn/pseuds/FHC_Lynn
Summary: Skyquake had made a terrible mistake.





	Offering

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dreamwidth [tf_rare_pairing community](http://tf-rare-pairing.dreamwidth.org/) for the prompt: Skyquake/Optimus Prime: alternatives

Looking down at the fires on the battlefield below, the first trickle of doubt formed.

At the time, Skyquake pushed the thought aside. He took pride in the single body he presented to Lord Megatron. It became a memorial of victory, guarded in the central plaza of the Palace.

But the doubt grew stronger as the world around him darkened. The few bright colors that remained became lurid. Garish. His optics burned, and he looked away. He took to wing with his brother.

But he could not out fly his growing dread.

He watched the lines of the walking dead approach the smelters. He tried to think _wasteful_ while his doubt screamed _shameful_. His worth, combined with his brother's, in this new, harsh world earned some of those bodies a reprieve. None thanked him for it.

To an aging medic in his 'possession' he gave the freedom to build. His twisting doubt watched their army march onto bulk transports bound for worlds that offered them no harm. The war continued, and he looked down into the plaza where his single kill at Technar was made to stand. The kill that should have ended the war. Optimus Prime, garishly painted to mimic life. Still spattered with his own energon. Doubt consumed Skyquake. His brother's gaze stopped meeting his.

Dreadwing began to avoid him as the smelters finally ran out of living fuel.

Every motion weary and hopeless, his medic tinkered in silence. Skyquake watched him, listless, and then stared out at the plaza and the single, age corrupted body on display there. No one touched the thing after Skyquake murdered their hope on the battlefield. No one save Megatron, Lord of all Cybertron.

Their Prime haunted him.

Battle cruisers not their own shot their way into the Cybertron's solar system. Doubt became surety as his Lord and Master raged. Skyquake and his brother fought. Each other and the enemy. Pain lived between them. This sin fell on him. His possession's ventilation hitched over tools and parts, and Skyquake felt each like a blow. He stared down at the corpse in the plaza, and he watched the aged medic. Despair moved into his spark. His brother began to visit Shockwave in that automaton's tower. Dreadwing stopped visiting him at all.

The ghost of Prime never stopped.

Their world became a battlefield once more, and Skyquake's doubt sent him into his brother's arms again. Pleading, needy. His brother's lover answered while Dreadwing rocked him through the evening. A wild plan formed only after he smuggled the old medic into Shockwave's care. While their planet burned, Skyquake watched them build with purpose.

Time existed, not as the linear flow perceived, but as a twisted curve around mass. The curve could be remade with sufficient power. At the poisoned core of their world, a dying god waited for the end. Skyquake kept one optic on the builders and one on the body propped like a statue in the plaza. His brother kept him alive, battle after battle.

In a night of death, he cracked open the body of his greatest victim and ripped out the empty core. He stole the builders' machine and crawled to the depths of their world. The optic of his god found him, watched him kneel, then focused on his burdens. When it lifted to him again, he fell into the mind behind it. His god plunged itself into the machine. The lurid colors dimmed and the darkness brightened. The world coalesced in muted colors.

The battlefield of Technar was still bathed in flame.

The chamber he held pulsed with life, and he looked into the pain of a living Prime whose guts he violated. Skyquake held his hands, frozen in shock. Prime's mechs surged around him, freeing their leader. Relief flooded him; his offering had been accepted. He let them beat him down.

Now, Skyquake could wait for a better end.


End file.
